


Crescendo

by neverwhyonlywho



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwhyonlywho/pseuds/neverwhyonlywho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course he likes to; this is Rose we're talking about here, and it makes Rose happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> A response to [a post on tumblr](http://neverwhyonlywho.tumblr.com/post/48612803194) stating: "I just feel like TenToo really likes to give oral. THERE I SAID IT."

Well of course he likes to give oral; this is Rose we’re talking about here, and it makes Rose happy.

In fact whenever he licks his lips afterward, anytime the rest of the day, she gives a smug little smirk that’s just for him, and he loves that, too.

She’s a joy in bed, honestly, because he knows exactly what would do it for her, what would make her come in moments, but she loves to be surprised, Rose does, loves something a little different each time, and he loves to indulge it. And so it’s always new, it’s a genuine adventure, Rose Tyler and the Doctor’s tongue.

The taste is one thing, I mean, he’s still got a ridiculous sensitivity to it, even as a human, and millions of neurons fire in a complicated dance when he puts his mouth on her; it’s heady and slick, and he knows what molecules these are, and so he traces benzene rings around her clit with his tongue, outlines aromatic compounds and words of praise.

If he had to orchestrate this—and he does, but if he had to put the notes down on paper—it would be a long, drawn-out crescendo. Bolero, starting with the softest of her sighs. And the taste is the one thing but maybe the sound is the best part, he can never decide; Rose is delightfully vocal, little sighs giving way to little groans and whimpers and growls, entreaties and demands, and he can never choose whether it’s better to give in to them and to bear down on her and hear her swear,  _fuck_  and  _god_ and  _yes yes yes right there right there right there_ , or to hold back and hear her beg,  _harder harder harder, a little more, just a little more, just a, oh fuck, doctor,_ please.

Either way the end is the same, it’s Rose Tyler’s orgasm one way or the other, and the way everything comes together is glorious—she gets slicker, so slick when she’s on the edge, and her hands are fisted in his hair like she’ll never let him go, and she’s cursing and begging and encouraging him all at once, mingling it all together, and her back is arched, and he knows when she stops making sense entirely that he’s got her right on the cusp, and it’s his pleasure to choose whichever way he wants to tip her over it.

Sometimes she shouts, sometimes it’s a moan, sometimes it’s a sound like a sob of relief, but there’s a fixed point after that, Rose Tyler flushed and panting beneath him, Rose Tyler giving him a sleepy grin, Rose Tyler taking the words out of his mouth so he doesn’t need to say them:  _thank you, i love you_.

He says them anyway.


End file.
